


My Favorite View

by elfiepike



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-05
Updated: 2007-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Jon is a fetish photographer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite View

"Hey, Jonny Walker," Bill said, crossing his long legs and leaning in very close, "you're a photographer, right?"

"Yup." Jon figured it wasn't worth mentioning that Bill always seemed to notice when Jon had his camera out.

"Could you take my picture for me? Except I wanted to try something out...."

That was how Jon got started in the fetish photography business.

\---

"Do you know who would be a great model for you," Pete starts, and with anyone else that might have been a question. Then again, it's hard enough to hear him over the music in the club, let alone interpret punctuation.

Jon finishes his beer and shouts, "Who?"

"Ryan Ross," Pete says, and grins toothily.

"I'm not gonna take his picture just because you have a big hard-on for him, Pete," Jon shouts again, amused. Ryan Ross is the latest Pete Wentz Project--Pete calls him that, though not to his face--recently arrived to Chicago for some kind of graduate school, creative writing related shenanigans and on the run from a dark past--again, Pete's words. "Besides, he's already told me that he, uh, 'appreciates the artistry of my work but his poetry already puts him out there enough already.'"

Pete's grin is so wide he could probably swallow an entire melon whole. "He totally said just that, didn't he."

"There was something about sensationalism and self-awareness, too, but I think I was already pretty drunk at that point." Speaking of which--Jon catches the bartender's eye and gestures with his bottle.

"If I can't count on Jon Walker to get me pictures of Ryan naked, who can I trust in this world?" But Pete's laughing and Jon doubts that he'd really want to share any Naked Ryan Time with anyone else.

\---

They've been in Chicago proper for two hours and a few spare minutes when Ryan announces that they're all going to go to an art show tonight.

"Seriously?" Brendon has spent one entire hour of that time cuddling with Ryan's sofa and watching a rerun of CSI, occasionally shouting plot points at Spencer and Ryan through Ryan's open bedroom door. "We just got in and you're already forcing us to hobnob with all the artsy hoi polloi?"

"Don't use words you don't understand, Brendon," Spencer says, already pulling on his coat.

"C'mon," Ryan says. "I'm going to take you guys out to dinner afterwards if we can get there soon enough."

"Okay, okay." Brendon fakes a woe-is-me sigh and stands up. "I can soldier through it if I _must_."

Ryan looks at Spencer; Spencer rolls his eyes. "You see what I'm living with?"

"I had thought you were joking," Ryan says, but that's a joke coming from him; Ryan's always been an excellent straight-man.

\---

"This is Pete's place," Ryan says when they get closer. "But he always has art up, too, for his friends."

"Pete's the guy who's been trying to get into your pants, right?" Brendon's breath puffs whitely in front of him as they walk.

"Yeah, I'll introduce you," Ryan says, and pushes open the door.

Inside it's warm and noisy with the sound of people conversing and laughing and drinking. There's music in the background, but it's next to impossible to make it out.

They leave their coats at the coat check, pick up glasses of wine at the bar, and start wandering around.

"Are we looking for someone in particular?" Spencer asks, glancing over the photographs. It takes him a second to realize what he's seeing in each of them, and he hides his surprise by taking a sip of his drink. Trust Ryan to not even mention what _kind_ of art they were going to be looking at. (Then again, Spencer should know by now that Ryan always wants something that much more outrageous; really, an exhibit of black and white large-scale erotic photographs displayed in a bar is pretty benign.)

"The photographer, he's--over there, come on," Ryan says, and navigates a path through the crowd.

"Spencer, Brendon," Ryan says, "this is Jon Walker. He took all of these."

Jon is already quite pink-cheeked. "Ryan, you came! And you brought people!"

"These are my friends from Vegas," Ryan says.

Brendon and Spencer both say hello, but almost immediately Brendon's attention is captured by the photo on the wall next to them. "Oh wow, that's--" and his mouth closes with an audible click, studying the photo, wide-eyed.

They all turn to look at it. "That's Tomrad," Jon says. "The rope was his idea, but I gotta admit that I've always wanted to try it."

Brendon has no response.

"You should pretend we could afford to buy one and show us around," Ryan says.

"I should totally do that," Jon agrees.

\---

Jon gives them the full tour. He's pretty charmed by Spencer and Brendon almost immediately; Spencer has clearly been friends with Ryan forever, doing the same head-tilt and critical response that Ryan did the first time he saw Jon's work, not betraying any more visceral reactions (Jon wants to know Spencer better just for that skill alone), but Brendon is like a little kid, especially after several glasses of wine, and asks about everything: "Did you tie him up yourself?" or "What about this one--he looks cold here, was it cold?"

Pete saunters over just in time to overhear Brendon asking, "So what's it like for the models?" He grins toothily, wolf-like, and slings an arm over Ryan's shoulder. "If you're so curious, you should try it out for yourself; I promise that Jon is very nice about it." He tries to put his other arm over Spencer's shoulder, going for symmetry or a cliche pimp pose, but Spencer shrugs him off.

"And you are?" Spencer asks. He stops slouching and crosses one arm over the other, careful of his wineglass.

"I'm the hot one, of course," Pete says; Ryan introduces everyone with Pete still leaning heavily on him.

Brendon blinks at Pete. "What do you mean, try it out?"

"Try modeling for Jon. I mean," Pete's grin has somehow turned both predatory and joking, and he looks over at Jon, "JWalk, look at this fine young specimen with his--porcelain skin and well-proportioned body. Wouldn't he be lovely in your photographs? Doesn't he just make you want to tie him up and _do_ things to him?"

Ryan coughs into his hand. He distinctly remembers Spencer complaining once when he and Brendon had first moved in together that Brendon "never stops moving, I swear--Ryan, I'm just going to _tie him up and gag him_ one of these days."

Brendon's cheeks flush, which a kinder person would credit to the alcohol, and he's still wide-eyed, clearly processing the idea.

Someone shouts for Jon, and Pete pulls Jon and Ryan both away.

Spencer and Brendon are left staring at the huge black and white print of Pete, sprawled obscenely on the floor of a bathroom, his head in between the toilet and the tub, his arms tied together and then to the base of the toilet, with one leg hooked over the edge of the tub, wearing half-unzipped white vinyl boots and looking--the word "wanton" comes to mind.

Spencer wishes he'd been drinking more.

Brendon stares at the photo, blinks again and again, and then swallows the rest of his wine and says, "Let's go catch up to Ryan."

\---

It's hours later by the time they leave, and none of them are interested in going out for dinner anymore. Spencer is halfway closer to Brendon in terms of inebriation and Ryan is still perfectly composed and smiling, happy and relaxed. Brendon is sleepily, clingily drunk, clinging especially to Spencer, who is always more forgiving of personal space invasions when he's tipsy. Ryan thinks they might actually be inhibiting each other's ability to walk, but says nothing. (He will remind them of this evening when they least expect it, "Oh, so it was like that time when I took you two to an art exhibit and you came back so drunk you couldn't really walk?" even if it doesn't apply to the conversation.)

They stumble up the steps to the train platform. Brendon says, "Thanks for inviting us, Ryan. I mean--in general but also to the show, yeah."

"What else would you have done, be serious," Ryan says, amused. Then he says, "Thanks for coming to visit." He hadn't realized how much he'd missed either of them until they'd forced their way into his tiny apartment. He really is quite seriously happy, happy and amused and kind of joyful, really, maybe even content, with the two of them standing next to him and waiting for the train, Brendon pawing at Spencer and Spencer's cheeks flushed bright red, although that could be with the cold.

Ryan thinks, sometimes, that he'd like to see Spencer and Brendon together. He knows that part of it is that he's inherently voyeuristic and feels like a thief, like he's stolen so much from Spencer and Brendon already that they won't mind if he steals that from them, too, the image of the two of them together and happy, like they are right now, with Brendon talking almost non-stop about the pictures and sleepily petting Spencer's back and hair and Spencer holding Brendon up in the loose circle of his arms; Ryan jokes about it with Spencer, sometimes: "Now that you have Brendon in that apartment, all to yourself, I know why you never call, you never write--" but from the way Spencer says _shuttup, ryan_ , long-suffering, Ryan's pretty sure that Spencer doesn't think about Brendon that way.

It's too bad, really.

"Ryan Ross, Ryan, Ross-comma-Ryan," Brendon says, "how did you get to know Jon? Has he ever taken _your_ picture? Have you--"

"No, really, Brendon," Ryan interrupts, "why don't you ask Jon to take your picture?"

Brendon falls silent and leans his head on Spencer's belly.

The train clatters into the station and they get on board. Spencer sits next to a window and Brendon leans on him; Ryan takes the seat opposite and he and Spencer talk quietly about Ryan's classes and his thesis and Spencer's now-ex-girlfriend's bad habits on the ride back.

\---

Ryan has to leave early the next day for work; Spencer and Brendon had some vague plan to wander the city and text Ryan every time they found something awesome, but Ryan's boss frowns upon cellphone usage during paid hours, so he leaves a note taped to the television: _Call Jon Walker about his Amazing Tours of Chicago, he's lived here his whole life_ , with the phone number on the bottom.

Jon knows all the best sight-seeing locations and, more importantly, he shows them all the places where the cool city-kids actually hang out, but Brendon keeps thinking about the photographs. Sometimes Jon will point out a view of the lake or down a side-street and Brendon remembers seeing them before, in the dark, glossy and framed on the wall.

Towards the end of the day, they head over to Ryan's job. Brendon can't help himself from asking just a few more questions, he just can't; it feels like it could be his last chance. "Jon," he starts, "this is unrelated to whatever it was you were just talking about--" Spencer's rolling his eyes, but that's never stopped Brendon before, "--but how do you find your models? For the photographs. I mean, uh. The photographs from the show last night, since you said you take other kinds of pictures, too."

Jon smiles, amused. "Sometimes I find people on model websites or in clubs, but mostly through friends. People know what I do so they usually end up finding me."

Brendon really wants to be asking something else, but he's not sure how to frame it in words, and he feels somehow really nervous even broaching the subject. Spencer's watching him, too, carefully, walking close beside him. "Uh," Brendon says.

"You know," Jon says, taking pity on Brendon, "Pete was totally right. If you wanted to try it out, I'd be happy to take your picture." Half a second later, he looks over at Spencer and adds, "You too, if you want."

Spencer looks taken aback before quickly schooling his face into blankness; Brendon glances from Jon to Spencer and back to Jon. "I," Brendon says. "I, uh."

Jon grins. Brendon reminds him of a little dog trying to do too much, paying attention to Spencer and to Jon and to where they're going. "There's no pressure, really. Just saying that if you wanted to try it out, you could."

Spencer says, "We're only here for a week."

Neither Jon nor Brendon point out that it wasn't really an answer, and Jon's not going to force anyone.

\---

Late in the evening, Jon gets a text message from Ryan: _what are you doing with my quality friend-time, jwalk_.

\---

When Spencer and Brendon get to Jon's place the next day, Jon has a whole scene waiting for them, with a leather couch and bare hardwood floors and a white wall with a decorative fabric wall-hanging in bright red; he's pushed the table and other chairs and the television out of the way. There are lights set up in the corners, but they're remarkably unobtrusive.

Jon welcomes them in. "I have this concept," he says, "but I think you should probably get comfortable in front of the camera, first."

He has Brendon sign a model release, and then makes puppy-eyes at Spencer until Brendon is making them too, and Spencer signs one as well. (Jon's been thinking about his particular concept all morning, and it would have been really different if Spencer said no.)

Jon says, "Okay, take a seat on the couch." He gets into position with his camera, checking the light levels.

Spencer sits closer to one side, and Brendon sits closer to Spencer than the other side, but otherwise they aren't touching, self-contained.

Jon takes a few photos, mostly just to take them, and tells them to hold on. He leaves the room, and comes back with an iPod that has clearly seen better days, scratched up and abused, and a set of speakers. He hits play. "This is my most ridiculous playlist," he tells them, grinning as it starts; he made it as a joke a few months ago, filling it with bouncy pop songs and Disney and techno remixes of hip-hop songs.

Spencer makes a face when Brendon starts to sing along. "This is just like being at home, fuck," Spencer says.

"Shut up, you love it," Brendon says, his eyes bright.

Jon grins from behind the camera, taking snapshots. He can practically see them getting more relaxed.

The song changes, and Jon asks Brendon to take off Spencer's shoes.

He's careful to keep his voice casual, but he continues taking pictures as Brendon gets off the couch and kneels at Spencer's feet. Spencer gets it immediately, something in his face going distant, but he doesn't say anything, and Brendon hums under his breath while he deals with the laces.

It's when Jon says, "Could you get his socks, too, while you're down there?" that Brendon is caught off-guard.

"Oh, is this--is this part of your Concept?" Brendon asks, paused where he is, looking at Jon behind the camera, his hands on Spencer's feet. (Jon isn't super-close to Ryan, but he imagines that if you're his friend for too long you start to speak in capitals.) Jon takes a picture when Spencer looks over, too, both of them looking directly at him, at the camera.

"Maybe," Jon says.

The ridiculous playlist pounds out another cheery tune. Brendon grins halfway, "So, what, I'm going to strip Spencer and then tie him up?" and his hands are still on Spencer's feet, clearly and very deliberately gentle, but he starts taking off Spencer's socks after just a moment's hesitation.

"I was thinking something along the other lines, actually," and there's nothing dark about Jon's tone, he's definitely a professional and he does this all the time, but he's not imagining the dark look in Spencer's eyes; Jon thinks, _this could get very interesting._

"He would--" Brendon sits back on his heels, and Jon takes a picture, careful that Brendon's face and his hipster glasses and his general fully-clothed appearance are in the frame, and the way he sits so well, hands on his thighs, with Spencer just visible from his knees down to his bare toes.

"If you can take off your jacket and shoes and socks, though," Jon says, "and Spencer, just stay there for now--yeah, like that, perfect."

Spencer has something commanding about him despite his pretty face.

Brendon shrugs out of his jacket and takes off his shoes and socks, all while mostly sitting there on the floor. Jon takes picture after picture, moving occasionally to get different angles; in some shots, Spencer is staring straight at him, but Jon catches him watching Brendon more often than not.

Jon has Brendon move to sit with his back to Spencer, on the floor, between Spencer's legs, and asks Spencer to help Brendon take off his shirt. "You know, pull from the bottom edge--" and Brendon closes his eyes even before Spencer's leaned over him, tugging Brendon's shirt off over his head. When the shirt is halfway off, stuck so that Brendon's arms are up and his torso is stretched out, but his head and arms are still stuck, tangled in the sleeves, Jon says, "Stay like that for a second."

Spencer moves his hands without Jon asking him to while Jon focuses and clicks, holding onto Brendon's elbows; one hand moves further, down Brendon's chest, and Brendon's belly flexes beneath it, shivering.

"If you could take it the rest of the way off, now," Jon says, so Spencer does, "But hold onto his wrists with one hand, up, and--yeah, keep your eyes closed, Brendon." He takes a few more photos, and then the roll is finished; he goes to his iPod and changes the playlist to a more unobtrusive one, just for ambient noise, and picks up the blindfold and cuffs he's had waiting.

"So," Jon says, "my concept is a pretty vanilla dominant-submissive series, mostly with a theme of possessive body language and subservience; with people like Bill and Pete, it's not something I get to try very often." He grins at them, but speaks coolly, low, not wanting to break the atmosphere. "But let me know if that's not going to work for you." He gives them a moment to think about it while he puts new film in his camera.

It only took a few moments for Jon to do all of that; Brendon and Spencer hadn't moved from their pose. Brendon opens his eyes to slits, flicking between Jon and Spencer.

Spencer says, "Sounds good," and he sounds like he did in the gallery, as if nothing could ever bother him, but Jon thinks that maybe Spencer was born for this role. He can see it in the way Spencer's free hand curls around Brendon's upper arm, near his shoulder.

"Cool," Jon says. "Here, could you put this on him?" He passes the blindfold to Spencer.

\---

Some of the best shots from the series:

Spencer putting the blindfold on Brendon, Brendon still between his legs on the floor, his hands up above his head;

Spencer sitting on the couch with perfect posture, regal, Brendon next to him, with Brendon's jeans-clad legs in Spencer's lap, his bare feet under Spencer's inner thigh, his whole body curved towards Spencer, wearing the blindfold and his wrists bound behind his back with two heavy black leather wristbands;

Brendon kneeling at Spencer's feet again, this time with Spencer standing up over him, Brendon's hands bound in front of him, leaning up into Spencer's hand, soft on his hair.

They don't ever get completely naked--Spencer stays fully dressed minus his socks and shoes, and Brendon keeps his jeans on, with the addition of the blindfold and cuffs, but it still has an intimate feeling that Jon likes, a power dynamic he thinks is kinky and interesting in its own way.

\---

Ryan calls just after Jon says, satisfied, "I think we're done." The sound of Spencer's phone ringing startles all of them.

"What?" Spencer says, answering his phone. "Oh, oh yeah. We've just finished. We'll be back soon."

Brendon's sitting very still on the couch next to him; he's still in the blindfold and his hands are still bound behind his back.

Jon feels strangely pleased with himself when he sees the way that Spencer carefully undoes Brendon's wrists. "So," Jon asks, "what did you think?"

Brendon puts on his shirt, clearly thinking. "It was. Interesting," he says. Spencer already has his socks and shoes back on.

\---

On the way back to Ryan's, Brendon keeps trying to read what Spencer's wants him to do, reacting to Spencer's unspoken words--and they're not exactly talking a lot right now to begin with. They've been friends for a few years and they've lived together for the last couple of those, but Brendon's still never felt this totally aware of Spencer's space.

He wants to stay in, maybe watch TV and eat pizza with Ryan and Spencer until everything feels normal again, but of course Pete's having a holiday party tonight to which he's graciously invited not only Ryan but Ryan's two visiting friends, as well. Brendon tells bad jokes to Ryan on the way over, feeling this nervousness in his limbs coming out of his mouth in non-stop babbling; Spencer stays quiet and still, watchful.

At the party, though, Spencer asks Brendon if he wants something to drink and goes off to get something for both of them. Brendon and Ryan hang out, still feeling too just-arrived to be friendly with Pete's other friends yet.

Pete spots them while Spencer's still off at the snack bar. "Ryan Ross!" he shouts, practically gleeful as he comes over to them. "And Brendon, Brendon, Brendon." He grins and hangs off of Ryan again; Ryan seems unruffled by this. "I hear you had a good time today with one Jon Walker."

Pete leans in close, and Brendon feels almost like Pete's staring at some tender part of him. He tries to lean back, subtly, but Pete follows. "Uh," Brendon says, and then Spencer is back, standing next to Brendon.

There is something amazing about the way Spencer stands, hips tilted, his entire body warning off strangers and friends alike; Pete backs off. Brendon feels grateful--he's sure he would have anyway, but.

\---

They get back to Ryan's place late enough that Ryan says goodnight and goes directly to his room, although Spencer and Brendon both know he's probably just going to be listening to his iPod and writing for a while, but he's basically dead to the world.

Spencer and Brendon have been sleeping on the fold-out sofa-bed together, and even though Brendon's never been shy about getting undressed in front of Spencer before, he hesitates. It doesn't feel like shyness, though; it feels like newness. They're standing on opposite sides of the sofa-bed, and Spencer's already in his pajamas (which is just flannel pants and a Bowie t-shirt) by the time Brendon finishes the thought. He feels stuck. "So, uh," he says. "Uh," and he's really almost never at a loss for words, especially with Spencer. _What the fuck_ , he thinks. _What the fuck am I doing._

"Brendon," Spencer says, "You should get ready for bed." He pulls up his side of the covers and starts getting in.

It really is pretty late; they both had a few drinks.

"Yeah," Brendon says, and gets changed. He goes to the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror for a second, feeling like he must be marked, somehow. He must be.

He goes back into the living room and gets back in on his side of the bed. Spencer says, "You gonna get the light?" so Brendon gets back up and turns off the light and somehow doesn't stub his toes on the way back. In bed his heart is beating so fast. He thinks Spencer is his friend, he's off-limits, c'mon. What the hell is this?

Brendon feels like he's seeing through x-ray goggles, except he's only seeing into himself, and he's only seeing in code.

Twenty minutes pass, and then Spencer says, "I know you're not asleep, Urie," but he doesn't sound pissed-off; he's just stating a fact, quietly.

"Today was interesting," Brendon says, just as quiet. "Interesting, and. You know. Not quite what I expected."

"Yeah?"

"I, uh. I thought there'd be more nudity, for one?" He didn't really mean to make that a question.

Spencer says, low, "Did you want there to be more nudity?"

"Uh," Brendon swallows. "Uh. I don't know. It was. It was. Interesting."

He looks over when he feels the mattress move. Spencer is propped up on his elbow, looking down on him in the dark. "Come here," Spencer says.

Brendon scoots over. "What--" he starts.

"Shut up," Spencer says. "Tell me to stop if you want me to stop." Then he puts his hand to either side of Brendon's head and kisses him. It's. It's pretty amazing, actually, Brendon thinks. It's kind of super-amazing, actually, especially after Spencer coaxes Brendon's mouth open. Brendon's hands clench in the sheets and he makes a noise without meaning to.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Spencer asks when they've pulled apart.

"Yes," Brendon says immediately. "Yes, yes please. Yes, Spencer."

"Be quiet," Spencer says.

Brendon stops talking.

"Touch yourself," Spencer says, still so low and quiet, "and think about what we did today." He's sitting up again, watching Brendon, and Brendon can't move for a second and then he has to, slipping his hand beneath his pajama pants, just about to do what Spencer said to when Spencer says, "Push down the blanket first, and slide down your pants."

Brendon swallows, and does it. His hands are shaking. It's just a little cold in Ryan's apartment; he turns down the heat at night. Brendon can feel his arms getting goosebumps. He looks at Spencer and then has to look away, closing his eyes and holding his dick in his hand.

Spencer says, "Jerk yourself off," and there's just the slightest hitch in his voice; Brendon looks at him again, and he's just. He's just watching Brendon, and Brendon starts jerking himself off even before Spencer finishes talking.

He starts to breathe faster, thinking about that afternoon.

"Tell me what you're thinking about," Spencer says.

"Ah, just--" Brendon tries to keep quiet, all too aware of Ryan in the other room. "Just how you. How you would sit, like. Like I should be there. Like you have this spot next to you--that I can fill, and that I felt." He stops talking and almost stops moving his hand as he searches for the words to describe it.

"Go on," Spencer says. Brendon realizes he's closed his eyes again, but he can't seem to open them, just listening to Spencer's voice and feeling his own hand on his dick. "Safe, it felt safe, and hot, like even if there had been twenty photographers you would still be the only one--touching me," and he's getting close, he can feel it. He's getting so close. He feels hot--all evening he was mildly turned on, ready, like the entire photo shoot and then the party were just some kind of long slow foreplay, with Spencer always standing so close to him.

"I would be," Spencer says, dark and fierce and possessive, "I would be the only one touching you, Brendon, I want to be the only one touching you and the only one allowed to tell you what to do--" and that's it, that's it for Brendon, Spencer's voice and what he's saying and Brendon tries to be quiet but he still has to bite back a gasp on his forearm, coming in spurts onto his belly, and all he's thinking is, _I want that, I want that_.

Spencer makes a noise a second later, more like a quick intake of breath than a gasp, and Brendon opens his eyes in time to see that Spencer's been jerking himself off this whole time--Brendon opens his eyes in time to see Spencer close his eyes and come.

\---

Spencer gets a washcloth from the bathroom and cleans them both off before they go to sleep, curled up together.

In the morning, Ryan says that they owe him laundry money, you douches, but he's still smiling his secretly-happy Ryan smile.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Patrick Wolf song, "(Let's Go) Get Lost."


End file.
